Verse 02 - The Lights are Flowing Down
by LaueHime
Summary: Underneath a Stretching Skyline sammyverse # 02. Hunting again so soon is not the best idea but Dean can't deny his little brother anything when Sam uses those eyes against him. Too bad he has to play doctors and give his brother home-provided anesthesia when they come back to the motel. Lots of angst in this one. Rated M to be safe.


**Title: **The Lights Are Flowing Down, verse #02

**Author: **LaueHime

**Rating: **Mature

**Genre/pairing: **Angst, H/C, Gen

**Characters: **Sam, Dean, Lucifer

**Word count:** +/- 3,500

**Warnings: **Graphic mentions of torture, gore, minor cussing, spoilers for s7.

This chapter has a _high_ level of angst. If you're sensitive to this, don't read or prepare your tissues.

**Summary: **Hunting again so soon is not the best idea but Dean can't deny his little brother anything when Sam uses those eyes against him. Too bad he has to play doctors and give his brother home-provided anesthesia when they come back to the motel.

This was written for spnshannanigans's prompt on ohsam which is "Sam's memories from hell threaten to overwhelm him every moment of every day. To calm the storm in his head, he comes to rely on either drugs or alcohol (or both). Dean allows this to continue (for now anyway) because he doesn't know how to help Sam and he can't stand the screaming"

**Disclaimer: **The show belongs to Kripke.

**A/N: **This is a series of verses. Every chapter can be read as a standalone story. But of course, it'll make more sense if you've read them all (or at least most of them). Each verse has its own title based on the lyrics of the song the fic is named after.

Feedback is love. Enjoy!

SNSNSNSNSNSN

"Dean! For the thousandth time! I'm telling you, I'm fine" Sam whined.

His big brother's face was hard as if he was dead set on his decision and _nothing_ could make him change his mind. Sam was breathing heavily from his persistent indignation against his brother's repression.

"Just give yourself some time, will ya? Dude, you're still recovering"

Sam rolled his eyes and glowered at his brother.

"My head's fine, Dean" he stated firmly.

Dean could still see the fading bruise where Edgar had almost cracked his brother's skull open with a crowbar.

"Like hell you are! You think I don't notice the headaches and the dizzy spells? And I'm not talking about the blank stares here, because that's a whole other subject of its own!"

Sam clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth.

"Let me be the judge of that! If I say I'm ready to hunt, then I'm ready!" he retorted petulantly.

"Oh really? How's the hand, Sam?"

Sam stood silently, glaring at his brother and focusing on breathing out through his nose. He unconsciously clenched his stitched hand into a fist that he hid behind his back. The trick Dean had given him in that warehouse had actually saved him from Lucifer's torment many times already. The only issue remained in the fact that he actually had to _hurt_ himself for it to work. Truth be told, his wound hadn't exactly healed like it should have. There would definitely be a nasty scar.

But the scar on his hand was only a tiny visible hint of the real scar he held inside. It was kinda like the tip of the iceberg. There was that gash, that Dean had home-stitched as best as he could, and there was the major and still dribbling gash that had once been the wall that held his mind together. But that had tumbled down already and the drainage had brought nothing but pus and debris.

"Dean, look. It's just a simple salt and burn. We'll be in and out before you know it and I think it'll help me set my mind on something else. Staying put and doing nothing only makes it worse" he tried.

"Sam! You just got out of the hospital! Man, you were fucking _seizing_! And you think I'm gonna let you out on a hunt? I don't give a crap if it's simple or not… you still space out half of the time! What if it happens on the hunt? I'm not gonna let you get us both killed!"

Sam almost taped his feet like a pesky child. For a second, Dean thought he was seeing his eight year old brother throwing a temper tantrum all over again.

"I'm sure I can focus if I'm hunting. And I'm fine, alright. Dean, please. I need to do something or I'll go crazy for real"

That's when Sam pulled out the whole show, puppy dog eyes and all. He even added the slight begging, quivering bottom lip just to add effect to his performance. Dean knew that he was fucked. There was no way he could say no to that. Not when, on top of that, Sam was using his sanity to balance his arguments. Dean couldn't deny him that when he knew that he'd be just as antsy to move, had the situation been reversed.

"Alright but you'll do as I say. I call the shots and if I say it's over, it's over – no buts, no complains, no arguments"

Dean sounded like an annoyed father granting his kid some permission he didn't want to be granting.

"Dude, I'm not five" Sam retorted, obviously peeved at being bossed around.

"Then act like it" Dean snapped before moving to his duffle and packing up.

Sam grimaced and made faces. He imitated his brother scornfully behind Dean's back. He was lucky his brother hadn't caught on or he'd definitely scowl at Sam for being childish.

Half an hour later, they were on the road. Sam was checking the map and was, for once, riding shotgun to someone else than Lucifer. It actually made him feel better for as long as it lasted. He could focus on the fact that he wasn't in the cage anymore but truly back with Dean and returning to business. It felt good to be busy again.

Saving lives, hunting things; the family business. That was what kept Sam going. At least it gave him something to hold on to. It bound him to reality when he needed something to anchor him.

The job was supposed to be simple, really. Find the bones of that librarian who had died at work and burn them so her soul could finally rest in peace. But when were things ever simple with the Winchesters?

They did find the bones quickly and torched them. Of course they thought it was over. But on the very next day, someone was killed in the library and witnesses reported that this death had happened with the same MO than the other ones before.

Apparently, the librarian had been killed one night during her shift. Rumor has it that it was because of a love story; something with another man and an angry ex. It had ended in a blood bath and people had been dying ever since.

Sam and Dean dressed as feds as they usually did and managed to discover that aforementioned librarian had a book that she held to dearly. The night she died, she was on her way to pick it up on its shelf. The boys figured that the book must be what bound her to their world and kept her from moving on. It only appeared logical because torching her bones hadn't sufficed to get rid of her ghost. Thus, they decided to find said book and burn it to ashes.

That should have been the easy part but easy wasn't included in the package when your last name was Winchester. They did manage to find the book but that's when shit hit the fan. The ghost girl came out of nowhere. She flung both boys into the air, one after the other. Dean was knocked breathless. Sam stood back up rather quickly, which made him the main target.

What they would soon find out from experience was that the librarian had been stabbed and as a vengeful spirit, she liked to play with her food in the same way she'd been played. Sam was surprised when he saw the flickering of the knife and shot a round of rock salt quickly enough to make her deviate from her route. Instead of hitting his heart, she pierced his shoulder.

Sam cried out in agony as blood gushed from the wound. The ghost's face turned mischievous when she realized that she'd missed her target. She wouldn't miss again. She tried to reach for the knife, but she groaned before she could extend her fingers. Within seconds, she was burning and falling to ashes. Sam covered his eyes with his hand when the light momentarily blinded him.

Once she was gone, he let his head drop to the floor and his whole body slumped over along with it. He heard hasty footsteps and someone calling his name but the pain and dizziness where already lolling him towards sleep.

"Sam, where the fuck are you?"

He managed just enough strength to moan. Dean found him quickly enough. His brother was frowning at the sight of blood on Sam and around.

"Damn it, Sammy. I disappear for two minutes and you manage to get stabbed"

Dean wasn't really angry at Sam, but more at himself for letting it happen. He took his jacket off and wrapped it around his brother's shoulders. Even though the wound itself didn't look too bad, Dean wouldn't risk shock. He didn't want to end the night in the ER.

"It's okay, Sammy. I gotcha. Let's get you back to the motel so I can stitch that"

"'kay" Sam slurred, his eyes already drooping.

Dean cupped his cheeks firmly and forced his little brother to look at him.

"Hey, look at me! I need you to work with me, okay? Like you said, you're not five. Damn it, I wish you were because you weren't that big when you were five…"

Sam managed to nod his head. Dean helped him up and half led, half dragged his brother back to the Impala. Sam was leaning into him and growing heavy with exhaustion. The eldest manhandled the Sasquatch sized boy into the passenger seat. He turned on the heaters and played it fast and furious.

Sam was starting to lean into the seat when he heard the familiar laugh. He jumped in surprise and snapped his head to the back seat where recognized the archangel staring back at him.

"It's been a while since the last time I smelled the scent of your blood, Sam" Lucifer whistled.

Sam tensed up and Dean almost veered off the road when his brother stiffened and jerked next to him.

"Sam? What is it?"

"You're not real!" Sam shouted while staring bewilderedly.

"Oh crap, Sammy! Not now?!" Dean exclaimed from the driver's seat.

Lucifer laughed on, the hissing only growing louder.

"This is marvelous! Really, who needs HBO when you've got this?!" he chimed.

Dean was looking frantically between his brother, the road and the backseat where, obviously, something only Sam could see was tormenting his brother. Dean knew it was Lucifer Sam was seeing but it didn't make it feel better to have a name.

"Get away from me!" Sam shouted, getting angrier and jerkier.

Dean was seriously considering the idea of pulling over when his unpredictable brother was that upset.

"Sam! Sit the fuck down and put it on hold" Dean demanded authoritatively.

Sam's head jerked in his direction but something definitely caught his attention in the backseat again.

"You see Sam, this can't be real. Would the real Dean treat you like that? What have I been telling you from the start? This is just another one of my little games to trick you. You're still in the cage, Sammy"

"Don't call me that!" Sam shouted.

Dean cringed from the level of anger that radiated of his brother's last order to the empty backseat.

Lucifer laughed and Sam's rage kept increasing at a fast rate. Dean had to do something before Sam sent them both flying towards the ditch.

"Sam? SAM!"

His brother's wide hazels finally turned to him. Dean thought Sam looked confused and almost distrustful.

"Give me your hand!" he yelled before he lost his brother's attention. Sam looked puzzled at first but he finally obliged. Dean didn't wait any longer and pressed down on the scar. Hard.

Sam pulled his hand away with a painful hiss.

"Snap back into it, Sam! Whatever crap you're seeing, it's not real!"

Sam shook his hand to try to make the burning sensation go away. He risked a look in the backseat only to find it empty. Lucifer was gone. Deep down, he knew that what he was seeing wasn't real, but whenever Lucifer was around, the fallen angel had a way of getting into his head and jumbling his thoughts up.

"SAM? You with me?"

Sam realized that he had spaced out and that Dean was staring at him and waiting for an answer from him. He finally nodded while rubbing his hand gently now.

"Thanks, D" he said softly.

Dean relaxed a little and took in a deep breath.

"Sure, kiddo"

The rest of the drive was rather quiet. Sam had managed to considerably stop the bleeding in his shoulder with a rag that he had found in the car. Dean would have to stitch it up and clean it to make sure infection didn't settle in. When they reached the motel, Sam went for his bed almost instantly after the car stopped. Dean pulled the duffels and the medical kit inside.

Sam had slumped on the bed and was almost asleep when Dean joined him.

"Hey, Sammy. I still have to stitch that wound before you can sleep" he informed. He heard his brother moan his disapproval, but then Sam managed to remove his shirt without Dean's help and sat on the edge of the bed while his own personal 'doctor' scrubbed up for 'surgery'.

First, Dean poured an important amount of Whiskey in a glass he handed to his brother. He then left the bottle near the bed and took out the painkillers. Sam swallowed enough to numb the pain without messing his stomach with the cocktail of drugs and alcohol.

The burning sensation in his throat felt foreign at first, but then he thought he was getting used to it and actually enjoyed it. They had always used alcohol whenever they needed to perform first aid that required a little more than band aids and ace bandages. But, although Sam did share a few drinks with his brother every once in a while, he wasn't much of a drinker still. He couldn't really get used to it.

Somehow, this time, it felt strangely comforting. Dean sanitized the material while he let the drugs have their effect. With Sam being such a light weight, he didn't expect for it to take very long. Indeed, Sam was starting to sway and slur within minutes. His brother was ready for the intervention.

Dean settled himself and took a deep breath before starting.

"Alright, just let me look at it one last time" he said, prodding the area and studying the front and back of Sam's shoulder. The blade hadn't gone all the way through and the wound wasn't as deep as it looked. Sure it had bled a lot already, but nothing vital had been hit and Sam would probably need a good night's rest and fluids and he'd be good in no time.

"Ok, you'll live. Wound didn't damage anything. I'm going to stitch it closed and then you'll be good as new" he explained.

Sam was blinking sluggishly.

"You ready?"

Sam took a few deep breaths in and finally nodded. Dean positioned his shaky fingers and inserted the needle into the skin to start the first stitch. A strange feeling built inside Sam's stomach and for a moment, he just sat there with his brow creased and his eyes closed.

It's when Dean inserted the needle a second time and pulled the skin together that something snapped inside Sam's head. Suddenly, everything was dark around him and he could only gasp and choke and pray for air that didn't come. He felt the metal breaking into his skin, piercing it and ripping it. The sound of shackles rattled in his ears and almost made them bleed. He felt the hooks dig in deeper and deeper and suddenly lift him off the ground, his skin and muscles tearing to shreds.

A desperate cry of pain ripped out the back of his throat. He started gagging and he was too hot, burning again. The metallic smell of blood filled his nose and asphyxiated his senses. His stomach rumbled and threatened to spill. At last, he registered the tapping against his cheek. He wondered what to think of it because he couldn't see anything in all that darkness.

Then something slowly pierced the black veil and light reached his eyes. A voice. A call. It sounded desperate and pleading. The voice was soothing so he leaned into it and let it loll him with it.

"Sam? Sammy! Come on, damn it! Come on, don't do this!"

Just like that, he knew whom the voice belonged to. He used all the strength he had left to hang on to it and let it carry him back to safety, back into the arms of that voice.

At first it was just a blur of colors but, quickly enough, shapes stood out from the blur. Those green eyes. He'd recognize them anywhere. They were his beacon that guided him all the way home. He followed them until his awareness returned.

"D…" he rasped out.

"Thank God, Sammy"

Dean was pale as if he'd seen a ghost or something. There was so much fear in his eyes. Sam felt guilty because somehow he felt responsible. He didn't know how yet but he just knew it had something to do with him. He had scared his brother again.

"Wha' happen'd" he slurred, trying to regain his bearings. He realized he was lying down on the bed, his gash still open and fresh blood had stained the sheets. He didn't have any memories either, except for the disturbing feeling of being torn apart.

"I don't know, but you just scared the living shit out of me. What the fuck was that, Sam?"

Sam swallowed and his brow creased, searching for memories or anything that would help him understand.

"What? I don't…" he started but Dean could tell he was confused and still out of it.

"I was getting ready to stitch your wound and then… man it was like you'd been electrocuted or something. You just stiffened and then turned completely limp… passed out… and then you started screaming…God Sammy"

Dean brushed a hand through his short hair and Sam could see that his brother's eyes were misty. He bowed his head in shame.

"It was Hell, wasn't it? It was just like that time in Bristol, except you didn't scream back then…"

Dean looked troubled still. What he'd witnessed had seriously shaken him.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I don't know what happened… it just did"

Dean looked like he was about to cry.

"Talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on. First, it's Lucifer in the car and now, this? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on"

Sam felt terrible but he knew it couldn't be helped.

"I'm sorry, Dean. But you can't help me. I can't tell you. I just can't"

"Why not? There's nothing awful enough to justify you, putting yourself through all this, is there?"

Sam started shaking.

"You don't get it, Dean… I can't… can't even begin to find words… because words don't exist to describe what I've been through… no word is strong enough… to even… begin to qualify… Telling you would be worse than not. Believe me and please, I'm begging you… quit asking"

Tears had pooled in his eyes and his lower lip quivered incessantly. Dean's own eyes filled with tears.

"Ok. If that's what you want… but if you ever change your mind…"

"It's what I want" Sam interrupted immediately.

Dean cleared his throat and only spoke louder this time.

"If ever you change your mind, just know that you can talk to me anytime. I'll be there for you, no matter how bad it is. You're not alone in this, Sammy"

And Sam nodded, tears leaking freely down his cheeks. It didn't take long for him to start sobbing.

"Fuck, Sam" Dean cursed, kneeling close to his brother and opening his arms invitingly.

"…get blood on your shirt" Sam hiccupped.

"I don't give a fuck" Dean snapped before wrapping his little brother tightly into his arms. Sam leaned into the comfort and cried. His big brother cried silently with him, hushing him when the sobs got bad and whispering reassurances into his ear.

When Sam finally calmed, Dean handed him the bottle of Jack. Sam drank directly from it and let himself fall numbly on the bed. Dean stitched the wound shut. Sam blinked at the ceiling and realized that he really couldn't feel anything anymore. Not Lucifer. Not the memories. Nothing.

All thanks to Jack.

He might be able to get over it one day and he was definitely grateful to have his brother around. But for the time being, the memories were bad and the Whiskey made it better.

There was nothing more to say.


End file.
